“Pardon?” says Noor, then, “No. I’m not a psychologist,” raising Higgie’s hackles. “It wasn’t in my head.

I’m not crazy. It was something else, something scientific, like your ships.”

“We don’t know they’re ships,” says Noor, wishing she was with them now, “and I don’t see what

they have to do with dreams of ancient swordsmen.” “It wasn’t a dream! If it was a dream,

whathowwherewhy are my doors hammered, my screens all smashed? He came from nowhere, and he went back to nowhere

and I want to know how.” Noor shrugs. “I’ve been with you here for over a year, and can’t tell you anything real

about my own work, let alone armoured men appearing from the ether. But,” she adds,

softening, seeing ragetroublegrief turn to panic, feeling it filling her cramped, cold office,

not wanting to always be away out on the edge of the Wheel, “You’ve reminded me about reports of not

unrelated incidents on other inner stations. Distance, isolation,

collective realities, et cetera. I have some papers here.” “I’m telling you,”

says Higgie, tight-lipped, “it’s not a brain thing. It’s a time thing. Keep your papers,

and tell me where to read about time.” Higgie’s stableseveresteadfast from a dozen decades of holding and speaking her mind.

So Noor swipes over the names of enough papers in speculative temporal mechanics

to keep the engineer occupied, to keep her, Noor expects, from coming back for weeks,

and downloads a few of them to her own slate to amuse herself when she has nothing to do.

Eynar snecks up

The widden worm sails trou the Hoose’s waas.

No wi a skirpan o steel an a sprettan o ruives,

but trou, like a laser wi flesh, a neutrino wi

a planet, a ganfer wi a iron doar.

Eynar wis stackan chairs an moppan the deck.

The baest cam fae ahint. Hearan a knark,

he golders, “Clossed!” an turns an sees the mulls

shaan the teeth. The worm is broon an shinan,

an on hids back twa dizzen rootan fock.

Hids face is frozen. Hids reid weengs dunder.

An Light maks reefu plays alang hids lent,

hids shields an graith an reeg an fock alowe.

Eynar skreks. The sealess ship flees trou

the next waa, no laevan a sign the Hoose

an hids man is willan at haem: notheen unless

a cuppid bucket an a reek o saalt.

Eynar closes up

The wooden snakedragonworm sails through the walls of the House. Not with a ripsqueaktearing of steel and a startstripburstjumping of rivets, but through, like a laser with flesh, a neutrino with a planet, an omenghost with an iron door.

Eynar was stacking chairs and mopping the floor. The animalmonster came from behind. Hearing a creakcrackcrunch, he yelllaughroars, “Closed!” and turns and sees the lips baring the teeth. The snakedragonworm is brown and shining,